We're All Alone
by RaritajiGolden
Summary: Heero, Quatre, Wufei, and Trowa are the adopted sons of Treize Khushrenada. One by one, they all begin to turn on Heero. He has nowhere to go, no one to turn to. He has no choice but to play their game. It's win or lose.


The feeling of being left all alone had Heero shivering in relentless terror. He knew what it meant to be alone. He sucked in a huge breath of air, and let his wide eyes scan over the place.  
He was in a small room made of stone, the walls crumbling in some places, especially near the thick wooden door. His eyes stared at that door for a long time, and he cursed its existence, understanding that it was the only thing between him and freedom. He bared his teeth, then got slowly up from his knees. A long shudder swept through him like a cascading wave, and his knees turned to rubber. Heero staggered to the wall and pressed both hands against it. He didn't like the thick rock under his skin. The surface was too chilling, too compressing. He turned his head back to look at the other side of the room. There was nothing in it except for a dying candle on a three-legged table, set in the middle of the room. The ceiling was flat and smooth, made of pure marble, the dark kind with the white streaks. He wondered why a room like this was made, with plain rock walls and a marble ceiling.  
He sucked on his lower lip as he strode slowly across to the other side of the room, his leg brushing against the table. It jerked off balance and toppled to the cool floor, the candle dropping with it. Heero whirled around and let out a sharp cry. The candle snuffed out, and the entire room plunged into blackness.  
Unable to see, he pressed himself up against the wall. Through the darkness his eyes searched for any facet of light. His chest was painfully tight, and a low whimper of panic was drawn from his lips. He felt tears stinging at his eyes, but when he tried to blink them away, they swept down his cheeks and clung to his chin. He licked his lips and tasted the salty liquid.  
Small pieces of memory were coming back to him. He shut his eyes. How had he gotten into this room? Where was this room? How long had he been in here?  
As the questions began to take over his mind, the memories began to make sense. He saw himself downstairs in the kitchen, helping his mother make breakfast, as he always did. He had slipped while cutting a biscuit, slicing his thumb open and dropping the knife to the floor. His father had been enraged. He had stormed into the kitchen, and he had grabbed him by the back of the neck. His grip was painful, and Heero had felt the creaking of his bones. The memory erupted into life.  
  
"NO! Father, let go!" Treize Khushrenada roared at Heero and threw him aside, punching him squarely in the jaw as he spun away. With a startled shout, Heero toppled back and crashed to the floor, the back of his head narrowly missing the counter. His mother continued to make breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the violence emerging around her.  
"You will address me as Sir, you little maggot! Do you understand?" Treize sneered.  
Heero nodded, scrambling back on the floor toward the closest door, hot tears streaming down his face. "Yes, Sir! I understand you, Sir! I'm sorry, Sir!"  
"No amount of apologies will get you out of this one!"  
Heero's father swept across the room and clamped a hand around his son's throat. Heero gasped, and got weakly to his feet, feeling a door pressing into his back. He started to feel for a handle with his right hand, his body trembling in fear. His hand came into contact with the handle, and he wrenched at it, trying to make the door open. The door jerked open, and both father and son flew backward. Heero screamed as Treize's elbow smashed into his chest, the pain rocking through him, spreading out in all directions so that he could hardly breath. He skidded along the carpet on his back, his shirt nearly coming off, the carpet burning against his flesh. Treize slammed a powerful hand over Heero's right shoulder, pinning him there.  
"You need to be punished, Heero. Severely," Treize hissed in his ear.  
Breathing heavily as he was dragged to his feet, Heero couldn't keep his eyes off of Treize's face. He received another vicious blow to his cheek.  
"Don't look at me!!!"  
"I'm sorry Sir," Heero whimpered, forcing his eyes to the floor.  
Treize growled under his breath, then snatched his son's arm, and started dragging him toward the stairs. Heero had little choice but to follow. He didn't want to get into anymore trouble.  
Having trouble breathing, he barely had enough time to stop when Treize wrenched open the door. His shoulder was nearly torn out of its socket at the tug he received, indicating that he had better hurry up. He had to trot to keep up, even though he was nearly as tall as his father.  
"Where are we going, Sir?"  
Too late, Heero knew his mistake. On the stairs, his father turned, watching him. Then he said in a cold tone, "I'll be sure to bring the whip with me the next time I come down here."  
Swallowing thickly, Heero barely managed to keep his eyes lowered. He didn't say anything more, and Treize dragged him along again. They went down the straight staircase for what seemed like hours, the torches lighting the way doing little to help his eyesight. Every time Heero stumbled, Treize would turn his head back to glare, causing panic to well within Heero's chest.  
They came to the bottom of the stairs, and his father opened up a thick wooden door. Without any explanation, Treize let go of Heero and shoved him forward into the room. When the door closed behind him, the entire room vibrated. He spun, and the whoosh of air from the door sent grit and dust into his eyes. He clenched them and rubbed at them, feeling how soaked with tears they were.  
  
Heero shivered at the memory. That meant his father could be hear any moment now, and he would have a whip. Heero couldn't count all the times he had been flogged by that man, but he knew that it was more painful each time it was done.  
He got down on his hands and knees and crawled away from the wall, feeling with his shaking hands. He found the table, and with a soft grunt, righted it. He hunted for the candle next, but froze when he heard footsteps echoing on cold stone.  
  
In desperation, Heero scrambled to find the candle, his hands scraping across the stone floor. His fingers hit something, and clenched around it. The door opened, and his head jerked up. He wasn't breathing anymore. What he saw made fresh tears emerge in his eyes, and they dribbled down his cheeks, his mouth trembling.  
Treize stood in the doorway, tall and rigid. He was dressed in clothing marked with blood, the pants torn up, the shirt ripped down the back. In his right hand there was a coiled whip, held there firmly by strong fingers. There was a grin on his father's face that sent chills through Heero's body, splashing like liquid across his skin, seeping through his muscles, and stabbing into the very marrow of his bones.  
Heero glanced down, and he saw that he held the candle in his left hand. He clenched it in his grip, and with a cry he lurched to his feet. He lunged at his father, stabbing the candle toward his right eye. Treize brought the coiled whip around and smashed him across the face with it. Heero fell back, his feet scuffing across the cold floor before his balance was lost. The pain that shot up his tailbone when he landed made him cringe, fresh tears sliding out of his eyes.  
"I warned you, son," Treize said in a menacing tone. "I told you before, and I will tell you again. You will not be my heir. Nothing you do will earn you such a high place. You're a maggot, Heero, a worm, and disgusting life forms like them never get into high places. You are the worm, yes, and your brothers are birds. They will always soar above you unless they catch you and eat you alive."  
Heero shrunk back, still holding the candle, and started to crawl backwards toward the wall. His father followed, and as he strode, he uncoiled the whip. Sweat gleamed on Heero's brow, and his chest heaved with compressed sobs. When he felt the wall at his back, he closed his eyes, crying softly, the sounds of terror and self-pity combined barely heard above his shuddering breaths. There came a crack, and he felt a searing sting across his face, his body jerking. He cried out, unable to hold it back.  
"Leave me alone!!"  
"Never, you worm! You'll die in here, just like Duo!" Treize snarled.  
Heero's eyes shot open, and he stared at his father. Blood trickled into his eyes, but he didn't care. "What do you mean, just like Duo?" His voice was shaking. "Where is he?!"  
Treize laughed softly and shook his head. "Don't worry, little worm. You will be with him soon enough."  
Before Heero could reply, the whip came down again, slashing across his throat. He let out a strangled whimper, his hands going to his neck. He dropped the candle in the process, and, breathing hard, got to his feet, pressing back hard against the wall.  
"What did I do wrong?" he asked quietly, his eyes shining with unshed tears.  
His father sneered, his voice equally quiet. "You were born."  
Heero lowered his head, his eyes locking onto the floor. When he was struck with the whip again, he did not react. He felt numb, and his mind was going in circles. He only heard his father's voice, chanting to him over and over again. He listened to all the things that were said to him, and, as his blood fell from his growing number of wounds, he began to believe it all. He was a worm, blind and stupid, with nowhere to go but down. His brothers exceeded him in every way. They were birds, and they could fly up and up until they reached the top.  
One hour went by, and Treize had stopped whipping Heero. In fact, he had left the room entirely, and the door was open. Heero, though, did not notice. He just stood there with his head bowed, his eyes glassy and unseeing. He was breathing, but barely, and his heart pounded slowly. Blood spattered the walls around his form, and it welled from his many wounds, running slick across his skin. His sweat had long since dried upon his skin. There were long tear streaks down his cheeks, and they cut through the blood on his face, indicating that he had been crying long after his father left the room. His hair was matted and stained with red, a tangled mess atop his head, falling in great knots down to his shoulders.  
Trembling, his body could barely muster the strength needed to let him stand on his own feet, his palms pressed hard against the wall to help in the dwindling support. Sometimes a low moan escaped his blood stained lips, and when the sound was made, blood trickled from a gruesome slash across his neck.  
"Heero?" A voice called timidly from the doorway.  
Heero made no movements at all, even though he heard Quatre speaking. Quatre stepped into the room, his blue eyes wide and unbelieving.  
"Heero, what happened to you? Who did this?"  
"Father." Heero's's voice was so soft, Quatre had to step close and turn his ear toward his brother's mouth in order to hear.  
"No." He shook his head. "Dad would never do this to you, you're lying."  
In the dim light, Quatre's's form was slightly hunched. His white hair was slicked back, pressed neatly behind his ears. His features were fine and delicate, boyish as though he were barely 15 years of age. He wore black velvet pants and a black shirt made of a gleaming material. There were no shoes on his feet. When he moved it was with indecision, as though he thought the ground was suddenly going to collapse from under him, and he would be lost for eternity.  
Quatre slapped his brother hard across the face when he didn't respond. Heero staggered, then fell to his hands and knees, letting out a gasping cry. Quatre glanced to his hand, now covered in dried blood, and sneered.  
"Liar!" He shouted. "You're a liar, father is a good man!"  
Heero stayed on his hands and knees, and he closed his eyes, the sting of the slap now gone; but the realization of who had hit him was still there, and it hurt so much more. Quatre lunged at his brother, kicking him firmly in the gut. Sobbing gently, Heero let it happen, allowed himself to fall onto his back. He kept his arms to his sides, and Quatre, his blue eyes wide with fury, kicked at him again and again, inflicting bruise after bruise.  
"Stop. Stop.please," Heero managed to choke out.  
When his brother spoke, Quatre obediently stopped, breathing heavily. His teeth were grinding together so hard it was painful. Heero slowly sat up, pain lancing through him. Shuddering, he got to his feet, his arms wrapping around his heavily afflicted middle. Quatre took a step back and shook his head before turning around and leaving. The door slammed behind him, and Heero heard it lock. 


End file.
